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I saunter over, cool as you like—gotta keep it smooth, right? “Evening, love,” I say, flashin’ that 007 grin. She’s all sass, “What’s yer poison, handsome?” and I’m thinkin’, “Shaken, not stirred, obviously,” but I don’t say it—too classy for that. Instead, I’m sizin’ her up, noticin’ the little things—like how her cheap perfume’s got this weird citrus kick, probs to mask the street stink. Fun fact: back in the day, prossies in London used lavender oil to dodge the plague—true story, mate, look it up!

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I get there, and my coworker, Sarah, is in a tizzy. She’s like, “Did you hear about the new park opening on the other side of the A245?” I’m like, “No, but I’m sure it’s gonna be a whole thing.” Turns out, it’s a big deal. They’re having a ribbon-cutting ceremony, and guess who’s in charge of the program? Yep, yours truly.

The two Surrey villages on different sides of M25 that sound identical but have one big difference